Transformers:  Veyron
by Fruity Sangheili
Summary: Having the world's most expensive car isn't always a good thing, as Royliana Schaffer finds out when her dream car makes her life into a nightmare.  Rated T for language and violence.


_"Heyooo... Heyooo... Heyooo... Heyooo! Wait a minute! Uno dos, it's time to go, adios! It's on and poppin', and we ain't stoppin'! Lets light up the night! Lets light up the night!" _The short brunette's hands stuck with sweat and burned as she gripped the steering wheel which was no longer in her control, but it made her feel better considering the situation. Being that she was having her ass hailed on by chunks of molten mechanical parts and bullets of fire twice her size. "Faster! This isn't funny!"

_"I think we need to slow it down ~!"_

"Are you crazy?" She screamed as the vehicle suddenly slammed it's brakes, sending her into the dashboard unintentionally. She slapped back against the seat like a ragdoll and pressed a hand to her chest, it felt as if it'd be stabbed with a chest-cracker. The screech of a falling metal astroid rattled into her skull and the dark interior burned a bright orange as the object sailed overhead and impacted the pavement, in which the car set itself in reverse rather hastily as a wave of asphalt surged their way. "Why are they chasing us?" She shrieked, hugging the seat for dear life.

_"Life is a myyysstterryyy!" _The radio buzzed, making her growl.

"You best speak up if we get out of this alive!" She slammed her fist against the leather. Smoke from the Veyron's tires surrounded them and the wave of fire had come so close to it's front end, she felt the heat was going to melt the skin right from her bones. Her eyes flicked between the racing inferno and the highway above where people ran from their vehicles every which way, unsure of where the mayhem was going to hit next. Her dark brows dropped into a frown as she noticed the flaming wave took an actual form. Another mech had emerged from the impact, mouth agape and roaring something ugly at her and her car. Things happened at lightening speed from there.

_"Ohh keep holdin' on! (baaaby keep holdin' on)!"_

Her frame quaked as she became hysterical, her body burned with the intense heat, and her mind raced to unimaginable lengths at what was happening. The robot's fist seemed to fly out of nowhere, grounding itself into the street inches away from the Veyron's nose, bits of pavement impacting the hood, pelting the windshield and shattering a headlight. The girl let another scream as the driver-side door flung open and her seatbelt became unclipped, sending her over the railing and onto the prickley turf below where she lost her breath from landing on her back. Falling into a state of unconsciousness.

~oOo~

Excavator's maw drew dangerously close to the considerably smaller Transformer's spark, mental fangs shattering on impact as the Veyron-gone-rouge rammed his plated fist into the monster's mouth, gears hissing and whining with his fist drilling through his cheek. He let loose a yowl from sensors overloading with pain signals, tripping back into the impact sweep he'd made chasing the girl and the bot. Wavebuster's stocky form fell back to Earth with it's own sort of grace, making crators in the concrete before he leapt to another spot just as Excavator made an attempt to crush him with his own head. Beneath the tinted visor, his optics focused in on Liana lying in the grass, obviously hurt more than he'd intended. Though he'd rather she be hurt and risk the factors of being paralyzed than dead all together, even as he simulated the fall she would take in the seconds they had, he knew she'd end up being pretty badly hurt though not out of the game.

"Come here you little rat!" The Decepticon snarled, sparks dripping from his mouth like glowing saliva, torn wires and curcuits flailing around his face and jawline. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're still operating enough to watch me get to grind her to pieces!" There was a grin in voice as he bit down in the place where the Veyron was once standing. The several large rotating cultivators pushed from his traceal tubes, piercing the ground, large clumps of dirt and debris exploding in every direction. Some of it collided with the overpass, sending abandoned cars plummeting to the empty streets below.

"Got a thing for the ground don't you?" A grin strewn across Wavebuster's face when he brought his arm to bare, deep puffs of smoke and fire escaped through the exhaust distributers implamented in his forearm and three missles thudded into the Backhoe's face, sending the machine spinning on a taloned foot to the ground with an agonized roar. His face seemed especially demonic now that it's plating was dangled and falling from it in lava-like globs. Some of the melting liquid dripped from what was left of his fangs and his optics burned bright with hatred. Wavebuster side-stepped in the incoming shrapnel the Decepticon sent his way using the massive scoop from his tail. "Damn your ugly! Put your face back on!" He taunted, leaping up to the higher road and firing a few more rounds into the creature's back. The sound he made rattled the Earth itself and the Veyron rushed the ramp, diving in a rash motion for the street as a large bucket collided with the ramp, destroying it easily. The night air filling with feral roars and snarls, Excavator rushed after the dimunitive Autobot on all fours in a feline gate, his exhaust pipes seeping a constant thick diesel cloud and his engine roaring from overheating, cooling systems crying in a high-pitched whine as they were pushed to the limit. Ahead, the Autobot worked to steer around the Earth vehicles he and his kind mimiced to stay hidden here on this planet, seemed like a moot point now. The wind rushed past them both, much to Wavebuster's dismay the chilly night soon helped cool the Decepticon's system, allowing the larger bot to push himself even harder to catch the sport's car, and Wavebuster soon found himself swerving to avoid the fast strikes the Backhoe delivered with the bucket on his tail.

"Optimus?" The small bot cried into his overcomm, a crackling responce relayed seconds later.

_"This is Optimus, what is it Wavebuster?"_

The Veyron yelled as he barely missed a sedan that was thrown from behind. "I'm gettin' rained on here! Big bastard's coming your way! Be ready Prime because he's gaining fast! I can't get much further ahead of him- Holy hell!" He cut the transmission short just as Prime questioned what was happening, braking hard and taking a sharp right off the road, he hadn't expected the Decepticon had it in him to rip the whole damn overpass they'd just went under off and throw it at him as a barrier across the interstate. Leaving him only seconds to take his true form, his leg caught the railing, sending the partially changed Transformer to the valley between roads. Excavator's roar rang out as he leapt the railing to finish off the sport's car.

~oOo~

"Captivating." Roy collapsed onto her pillow, the pulsating beat in her headphones drowning out her father's yelling from the kitchen below as he went on about her brother's failing grades. Her second eldest, Mitchim, didn't respond to her comment and seemed to blend into the typical teenage-lifestyle room of an abundance of clothes, colors, and wires leading to electronics that could no longer be seen. The TV remained on with a game that was on pause for the past few days, next to it sat a rather admirable pile of cereal bowls. He lay back in her dark blue beanbag, uninterested in the world outside his comic book though a frown of awareness on his face at the constant banter echoing through the two story Waterfront by Bedlington home. A soothing breeze hit the windchime hanging above her bed, though it didn't seem to make it far into the sticky-warm and stale room.

"Royliana, Mitchim! Downstairs and bring your homework!" The third youngest brother called, his voice obviously distressed from being verbally assulted by his father earlier. Mitchim, having slammed his hardcover comic at the sound of his name, squeezed his eyes shut for several long seconds before he stiffly rose and dropped the book in the place he sat, navigating the stuffed room to tap his sister on the shoulder. "Roy, homework, downstairs. Dad." She too shared his expression and hoisted herself off the mess of blankets.

Downstairs, their father loomed by the kitchen counter, an expectant stare pailing his children's faces. While his seemed redder than the livingroom couch. Setting down their folders with care before him, they backed away and stood parallel to their scrawny siblings. Their father had always been hard on them, sometimes to the point where Mitchim and Vegh considered it abusive. He'd especially been cold towards Roy, her name a gift of wishful-thinking. He'd seemed to make it a "goal" in his life to get a woman to drop him five sons before he died. Didn't get it, and when Roy was born, though it he didn't make it too clear that she wasn't the favorite of his children, it was well-known from the subtle tidbits of snapping and ungratefulness he sent her way. She worked harder than her four brothers, being the first youngest with Ron being born last. Having grown to disrespect her father for the "hatred", she dare say it, she called her father by his given name, Marshall. Memories of his unfairness towards her flashed back through her head, and today, their grades decided on the outcome on whether or not Marshall was going to be the fairest he'd ever been after months of begging, to get them their own vehicles. Satisfaction remained hidden from the tight-gutted kids while he flipped through their documented grades. Roy knew people kept watch over their children's grades, but to go as far as to give them assigned documents to place their highschool grades into, dated and all, was rediculous. It took the overweight businessman fifteen minutes to read the entire pair.

"Most impressive Roy." He addressed her with that tell-tale haughtiness of "you're not a worthy child of mine". "Mitchim. There's good consistancy here throughout. You both really want cars don't you?"

"Yup." Mitchim spoke, his voice awaiting. While Royliana remained quiet and nodded.

Marshall dropped the documents and braced his thundering ass against the sink area. "And do you two have vehicles that you had in mind?"

"Yeah..." Roy said quietly, casting a glance to her brother who exchanged her the same expression of anticipation.

Mitchim spoke up. "Roy found an add online, it's a Bugatti. Veyron too."

Roy stiffened, there went Marshall's familiar tight-lipped and bug-eyed face, reminding her of a Cane Toad. "A Bugatti, Roy. Really? You're fucking joking right?" She remained calm, shaking her head 'no'. "And how much, may I ask, is this vehicle?" He inquired sarcastically.

"First, can I say?" She raised her reddish-brown brows and he nodded. "The car IS damaged, someone cracked- _busted_, the windshield and broke one of the mirrors off. Nothing was stolen, it was more like a hate crime and the guy said he wouldn't know who would do such a thing but he doesn't want it anymore because the damage haunts him. He had as an inheritance from his father so that makes it hurt worse..."

"Roy, how much?"

She shrugged, not expecting her father to dish out more than a couple hundred on a car for her. "It's $79,900. And this is not counting the amount for repaires on upholstry, since they sliced up the leather on that too... He said his father paid an arm and leg for it and he finds it rediclous to charge."

"Does he still have it?" He father did not seem too impressed at the price annoucement, which also made her brothers physically cringe. But her heart skipped into her throat at his tone.

"Yeah he does, I just talked to him over E-mails today and he said he'd hold it till I got the verdict from you since he has eight other people looking at it and he suspects there's more. It's got the black in the middle, but it's this really cool custom green irridescent and purple, you can even see the color change in the pictures. But he changed out the engine too, which is why I like it. The original engine sucked up too much gas so he put a deisel engine in it to save money and have it on the road longer. That kind of engine is NOT cheap, since the Veyron's engine alone is a custom just for that particular vehicle, it's basically a downsized jet engine."

"And what's the original gas mileage for that type of vehicle?" He cocked a thin brow.

"Highway EPA is 13 miles, city is 8. Stupid right? With diesel it's almost 40 miles, you'd think the people who make a $1,600,000 vehicle would have the brains to give a more efficient engine to one of the most declared beautiful cars on the planet." She laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

He sighed, raising a hand and looking to Mitchim, who's expression wavered between happiness and nervousness. "And you?"

"Camaro, you know me and Camaros. It's a 2010. Burnt Orange with racing stripes, it's got the regular stuff, CD player, AM-FM, power windows, power lock, but, it has push-button start. The lady just bought it for the color, she originally was going to give it to her grandson, but he hardly drives it anymore since he got the baby blue Lamborghini from his dad who she openly says is a jerk, and that's putting it mildly. She's said she's heartbroken but wants it to go to a kid that will take care of it. Sob story I know, but I did feel bad for her, she seemed genuinely nice."

"Sounds nice... Price?" Marshall sighed.

"Uhm... I think, $25,995, so she said. If I remember correctly. She said she spent close to fourty thousands on the thing. Rediculous if you ask me, but her asking price isn't bad for resale. It was probably the paint job y'know?"

"What was it? Orange?"

"Burnt orange, she said. With the racing- Oh yeah, then you have the custom orange hubcaps and black rims atop the stripes. Sorry. It's practically new, she had pictures and everything."

"Mm, what's her name?" He scratched behind his head, watching as scrawny Ron made his way towards the kitchen sink and went about washing the pile of plates, as if telepathic that his father demanded major ass-kissing. Sucked being the runt.

"Her name is Mrs. Anders, very nice lady over the phone, I gave her mine, since it's easier to change than the house phone."

Marshall nodded. "Yeah. Well..." He fidgited, scratching under the band of his watch. "Roy, what was that guy's name?"

"The old man? His name is Charles Marcus Vandergriff. But he said to call him Charlie, he's a really humble man over the Emails, but he didn't ask for a number, though he gave his if you want to talk with him."

"Well, I," He paused to schuffle across the kitchen and head for the downstairs master bedroom, or what Roy and Mitch called the Bastard Bedroom. "am going to get dressed, Roy, if you want that damn car you best call him now because there isn't always going to be a day when I'm off on a day you two are. Mitchim, you best do the same to Mrs. Anders." He left the two wondering what sign from above had shot a golden arrow into his ass this morning but took the opening like a bunch of Wolves and rushed upstairs to gather their phones. Leaving scrawny Ron to stew in his own thoughts.

Jumping about in jeans too small for your thick ass and trying to dial on a touchscreen wasn't exactly a skill, but Royliana was turning into a homemade sport, fast. Nearly tripping a controller by her bedside, she squeezed the phone between her shoulder and ear, inhaling to fasten the "supposed" stretch denim. She relaxed as it began to ring, exhaling after having stuffed her fat into the jeans that refused to give, making her hick a few times. One ring... Two rings... Three ri-

"Hello?"

She did backflips mentally. "Hello? Mr. Vandergriff?"

"Yes this is he, who is this?"

She smiled at his soft and scratchy tone, he sounded so kind. "Hello sir, this is Royliana, I spoke with you over the computer about your Veyron?"

"... Oh yes! So what did your father say?"

"He said "if I want the damn car, that I had to call you"."

The older man let loose a raspy laugh, it was genuine. "Hahaaah! Well I've kept my word, miss. That "damn" car is still here and I've told other callers it's been sold. Hurry up and come'n get it." Roy tilted her head as she listened to him. He sounded not only happy for himself, but for her as well. "I can't drive it, anyway, I'm in a wheelchair."

She pushed her lower lip out automatically. "I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Vandergriff..."

"Charlie, Royliana, call me Charlie. And don't you pay mind to it, it happens when you turn stupid on the road, so don't do any racing of any sort on the highway. Especially in that Veyron."

"Okay then, Charlie. And no sir, I won't. I already lost a friend to racing on the highway..." She lifted her head as heavy footfalls grew louder down the hallway and her father peered around the corner, raising his brows. "Oh! Just a minute, Charlie, sir." A muted "okay" was pressed into her shoulder as she addressed her father quietly. "He still has it, he said he's holdin' on so to come and get it because people keep calling."

"Alright, tell him you need to go and we'll be on our way." He grunted as Mitchim ran past like a wild-child, obviously elated to get his first car, a modern Camaro no less. "Goddamn it Mitchim..." He muttered, turning to follow the child back down the stairs.

She reached over, kissing the tank of her Kingsnake, Jemaine, with a raspberry on the glass. He regarded her sudden heat-signature with interest from under his coconut shell halve. "Be good, Butt-butt." She pressed the phone back up to her ear, still able to hear him breathing. "Charlie?"

"I'm here."

"I have to go, we're on our way now, I have your address written down already sir. It should take us 15 minutes at the most. But we've also found a car for my brother, so we don't know which one we're going to see first."

"Well I do hope it's this one, it's closer don't you think?" He seemed to let loose a wheezing chuckle.

"Yes sir it is, we'll hopefully head that way first. What's funny is, we've driven by your house many times, since my father takes that street you live on to work."

"Oh-ho really? Well that's good! Biggest house there is on the street, the very end with the -"

"U-turn shaped drive in the front next to the big white flower pots?" She let a good-natured laugh escape as she tromped down the stairs to her buzzing brother and tired father.

"That's it!"

"Okay sir! I thank you very much for you time, and we'll see you soon!"

"Alright, bye-bye miss."

"Buh-bye!" She heard him pull away from the phone, a happy laugh escaping his throat only to be cut off by the phone's dialtone. Tapping the phone's lock option, she looked up at them and tried to hide her elated smile from her father, seeing as he didn't appreciate her happy at all. "Ready to go..."

~oOo~

"Which one are we going to first?" Roy asked nervously, her face hurting from scrunching her eye at the sunrays come through the windshield, regretting having forgotten her sunglasses.

Her father glanced back at her from the rearview. "We'll go to yours first, it's closest. Mitchim, what did that lady say? You've been awful quiet."

"Hm?" He looked up from his magazine, obviously a little sick from looking down in the car. "She said she'll hold it, someone already came to look at it today, a man and his young son. They seemed really interested and they were going to go to lunch to discuss it, she said to hurry. I'm a little worried since that was fifteen minutes ago."

"You can't just hang up your hat, Mitch. There will be more Camaros." Roy smiled back at him, he returned it moments later.

"Yeah I know. I just really like this one, good price and the color I've been wanting."

Marshall sighed. "It'll be alright son, if that one doesn't work out for you we'll look at more."

~oOo~

The ride was noisey till they reached their destination, on occassion driving their father crazy with obnoxious sing-along to rock music he didn't even like. Roy's skin prickled as their travel slowed and a rather grand house reflected off their father's spotless windows. Eyes the size of saucers, she and her brother, also excited to see the vehicle, were already pulling off their seatbelts.

"Wait a minute, damn. At least until I stop."

"You're good." Mitchim peeped excitedly as he and his sister eagerly slipped out of the doors once they felt the pre-mature urk of the brakes. The minor grip their father made at the fact they left the doors of his Mustang open was out of earshot as they rounded the massive planter in the center arch of the U-shaped driveway, and Roy smiled at a man no later than his 50's sitting in a wheelchair, speaking intensely with what looked to be his butler, albiet being young looking, as expensive as this house was, she wouldn't've been surprised if he actually had one. The man in a dark navy blazer and stark green and yellow tie that went nothing with his outfit regarded her with a snitchy expression and seemed to retreat from the old man.

When the taller man eyed Roy for several seconds, the owner, who she assumed to be Mr. Vandergriff turned to her and his face lit up. "Hello, may I help you?"

"Yes, Mr. Vandergriff? Er, Charlie?"

He nodded with a curious grin. "Yes that's me."

"Royliana Atticus Schaffer, it's a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Ah yes, Royliana, a pleasure as well." Charlie took her outstretched hand eagerly, glancing up at her approaching brother. "And who is this?"

Mitchim smiled at him in a modest nature, almost bowing to him. "Hi, my name is Mitchim. I'm Roy's older brother, my dad will be right with us."

"Good to meet you Mitchim. If you'll two excuse me, I need to finish talking with this gentleman here." He tapped the controls of his powered wheelchair to spin it around to the haughty man, even the wheelchair was pimped out, Roy thought amusedly, eyeing the dark ruby paintjob and custom seat that was chocolate in color with red stitching.

Marshall approached from behind, a checkbook in his hand. "We didn't have time to stop at the bank, but if he wants cash for it I'll go get it no problem."

"Dad, you don't even want to look at it?" Roy looked up at him, eyes wide. He shook his head.

"Royliana, this will probably be your only chance to have one of this vehicles, it is your only chance, normally I wouldn't buy one of these because they are one of the most polluting cars on the planet. With the engine the way it is on this one, makes it a one of a kind. So no, I'm not going to look at it, I'm just going to buy it and deal with the cost of repairs later, they're chump change compared to one brand new. The windshield is custom and so is the glass, so I'll have to send it back to Brittan to get it fixed. It's not something an old repair shop can fix, it'll cost a fortune, but I'll get it done."

"Do you know how long it'll take for it to get done? I know I won't be able to drive off with it right away, but I'm just asking."

He shrugged. "I don't know, it may take a week or two for it to get to the dealer and back. I can have it ordered from the dealer and have it repaired here too. I don't know. I'll have to call uncle Tate to borrow his trailer, which means nearly a two hours drive, four hours, to get the trailer and come back and then come pick up the car and bring it home. If it's drivable, that's fine, but it's not street legal with the windshield banged out." He looked up when the hum of a Wheelchair interrupted, smiling at the weathered looking man. "Hello Mr. Vandergriff, Johnathan Marshall Schaffer." He held out his hand with a welcoming grin, nodding as the man returned the introduction.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is my first Transformers story based within the Movie Universe. Ideas on how to make this small section of it better are welcome since I know for the most part it's awkward, but no berating or insults, otherwise known as "Flames". I'm used to writing Halo stories, I decided to start on a different favorite genre of mine so it's out of my comfort zone. Naturally, the Bugatti in the story was picked out of favoritism since I absolutely love the Bugatti Veyron 16.4 visually, however, I am appauled at the amount pollution it makes and the pathetic gas mileage and seemingly push-over asking price. Wavebuster and Excavator are both OC's of mine, so is Royliana and her family. Thank you for reading!


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